


modern dating

by metalsuit



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Craigslist, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 20:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19070320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalsuit/pseuds/metalsuit
Summary: There's a guy sitting on a bench who's staring at him, and Steve's first thought is fuck, quickly followed by annoyance because he's—is he snapping at me?The guy is indeed snapping his fingers and waving his hand to get him to come closer.Steve stifles a sigh and walks toward him. "Steve Rogers," he says by way of introduction, holding out his hand."I know," the guy says distractedly, ignoring the hand. "I had JARVIS look you up."*tony doesn't have enough friends and puts out a craigslist ad for someone to pose for a few pictures for him, for his dating profile. steve answers.





	modern dating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [delightfulalot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delightfulalot/gifts).



> this is for sam, based on this post: 
> 
> https://twitter.com/nothalfasgood/status/1135301831989628929?s=20
> 
> I HOPE YOU LIKE IT BABE xoxo

Steve's not sure what to expect when he shows up.

He's answering a Craigslist ad, one printed out and safely in his pocket just in case the guy doesn't trust him. (And, Sam pointed out, if he gets murdered then the police can piece together "what dumbass move you made".)

He chews on his lower lip, staying in his car. His phone buzzes.

 _is that you?_ comes through as a text.

Steve doesn't bother responding (he hates texting and how impersonal it is), just gets out of his car and squints, holding his hand up to block the sun, and looking around the park.

There's a guy sitting on a bench who's staring at him, and Steve's first thought is _fuck_ , quickly followed by annoyance because he's— _i_ _s he snapping at me?_

The guy is indeed snapping his fingers and waving his hand to get him to come closer.

Steve stifles a sigh and walks toward him. "Steve Rogers," he says by way of introduction, holding out his hand.

"I know," the guy says distractedly, ignoring the hand. "I had JARVIS look you up."

Steve frowns, looking around and readying himself for a potential fight. "What are you talking about?" he asks, somewhat bewildered.

It's then that the guy finally looks up, seeming to properly register his presence. "Oh," he says. "I just—sorry. JARVIS is, uh, my A.I. That I made."

"And you had him look me up," Steve says. He isn't offended, really, more impressed and thrown off.

"I wasn't sure if you knew—why you'd answer an ad like that," the guy, who still hasn't introduced himself, says. "So I did."

Steve feels a bit foolish. "I couldn't do any googling," he says, "considering you didn't give me a name."

"Tony," the guy says, and winces. "Don't, uh, tell anyone that, though."

Steve is getting more baffled by the minute. "Why?"

Tony just looks at him. "I'm trying to keep my identity a secret," he tells him, in a deadpan that could either hide truth or a practical joke.

Steve shakes his head quickly. "Right," he says, faint. "You—of course you are." He pauses. "I'm here for—about pictures…?"

"Right!" Tony says, snapping again and pointing at him. "Of course." He stands up, looking dizzy on his feet. "For my dating profile."

Steve nods. "Exactly," he says slowly. "Uh. You wanted to take them in a park?"

"Pepper says I need to be casual but approachable," Tony says, as though he's reciting something.

"Pepper," Steve repeats.

"Yeah. Pepper. She's my ex—this whole thing was her idea. She thinks the reason I'm all"—he waves a hand—"is because I got dumped."

Steve has never been in a more baffling situation in his life. "Is it?"

Tony shakes his head. "I dumped her," he says.

Steve raises an eyebrow.

Tony tries again. "It was mutual? Or—whatever, you're here for the money, don't want to be actual friends," and it's like he's reminding himself of it.

"Hey," Steve says quietly. "If you need someone to talk to…"

Tony stares at him. "Yeah?" he asks.

"I'm here," Steve says, shrugging and jamming his hands in his pockets. "Bucky says I'm a good listener…"

"Boyfriend?" Tony asks, narrowing his eyes.

"What—no," he says. "He's a friend."

Tony nods. "But he has a thing for you."

" _What_?" he asks, letting out a stupid little desperate laugh.

"You look—like that," Tony says, and his words sound frantic.

Steve looks down at himself.

"This won't work," Tony says quietly, looking him over appraisingly.

Steve feels mildly objectified. "What won't?"

"This. They're all gonna think you're the one with the profile," Tony says. "You're prettier than me."

Steve steadily goes red. "How'd you get from Bucky to that?" he asks.

Tony waves a hand again, like he's shaking off a particularly persistent fly. "Doesn't matter," he says. "We can take the pictures, but I'm gonna be mad if no one responds when they see whose face it is."

"You're pretty!" Steve insists, feeling himself blush again, slow. "Anyway—come on," he says. "Where do you want me?"

Tony takes a slow breath. "Here," he says, pulling out his phone, an entirely glass monstrosity that Steve would break _immediately_. "Smile," he says, and it sounds almost mocking.

Steve slips his arm around his waist naturally, smiling at the camera. Dimly, he thinks that this looks more like a couple's photo than one of friends, but—whatever. Tony's pretty, he isn't complaining.

Tony hums, looking at the few he took. "You don't photograph as well as I do," he says quietly.

Steve lets out a startled laugh. "You're an asshole," he tells him, and there's (already) fondness creeping into his voice.

"Yeah, working on that. The dumping that didn't happen may have been influenced by that." Tony winces.

Steve shakes his head. "Listen," he says, while Tony's looking at the pictures. "I have a standing date with a few friends, we do dinner together and then head out to a bar or something. You should come along. Can get a few more natural pictures that way."

Tony's fingers still on the phone. "Really?" he asks, frowning at him.

Steve shrugs. "Always room for someone else," he says, which is true. "And you said you didn't have many friends around here, you can borrow mine for a night."

"Not just here," Tony says.

"What?"

"I don't have friends anywhere. Not just around here." He's giving Steve his full attention now. "You're serious?"

"Sure," Steve says, mildly concerned now, but he's pretty sure he could take Tony if he lunged at him.

Tony nods. "Not this week," he says, and then, "I haven't slept."

Steve blinks. "What do you mean?"

Tony waves a hand, attention back on his phone. "In a couple days. Oh, don't give me that look," he insists. "I get my sleep on weekends."

Well, that explains the seeming mania. "Let me know when you're rested up, then," he says. It sounds like a come-on, and maybe it is. Tony's pretty, after all. "We can fit you in."

Tony nods. "I'm Tony Stark," he says after a long minute.

"Okay," Steve says. "I'm Steve Rogers."

Tony shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're inviting me over out of the goodness of your heart?" he asks.

"Well, yeah," Steve says. "Sorry, was I not supposed to?"

Tony shakes his head. "Look me up," he says, and then he's close, fingertips resting against Steve's wrist. "Let me know if you still want to be seen with me."

Okay. What. "Right," Steve says faintly.

Tony waves his phone. "Thanks for these," he says, walking backwards. "I'll send you a link when it's live, okay? Make sure you approve."

"Okay," Steve says. He waves and turns around, heading back to his car.

What the _fuck_ just happened?

***

"Tony _Stark_?" Bucky sounds angry, or—baffled, at least, by Steve's idiocy. That happens relatively often, in fairness, but now it seems more so.

Steve nods. "Yeah. You know him?"

"Fucking everyone knows him!" Bucky says, laughing at that. "Everyone but you, apparently. He's—remember the Maria Stark Foundation? That's him. He's the one who paid for my arm."

Steve looks over the metal arm, mouth dropping open a little. "Oh, fuck," he says quietly.

Bucky laughs. "Yeah," he says, rolling his eyes. "No wonder he thought you were fucking with him."

He frowns, leaning back in his chair. "I should…" he says, trailing off. "Thank him, at least."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Yeah, buddy. Thank him for my arm."

***

Steve drafts out a text, later. It reads more like an email, but then his texts always do.

_Mr. Stark - I just wanted to thank you for the work that you do. Bucky, the man you thought was my partner, had his arm fixed up by your Foundation. The work you do is truly remarkable, and I would again like to extend the invitation to spend time with us sometime. Regards - Steve Rogers_

He sends it after an unreasonable amount of indecision, changing this word and that until he just forces himself to click send.

He turns his phone off, then; Tony's probably asleep, he tells himself, or busy doing terribly important things, not waiting for a text from a broke art student.

He gets working on his latest piece, an assignment for his least favorite course, and loses himself in it, the soft noise of charcoal on paper the only distraction he needs.

When he finally drags himself to bed, he turns his phone back on, but falls asleep before his head hits the pillow.

***

He wakes up to several texts.

 _are you always this fucking weird when you text or is it because you know who i am?????_ at 3:52 in the morning, and then _did you Google me?_ twenty minutes later, and finally, _surprised you still want me over after the things I've done_.

Steve squints at his phone, rubbing his eyes. Without thinking about it he hits call, holding the phone to his ear and yawning.

Tony answers on the second ring. "Steve?"

He makes an affirmative noise, face half-pressed against the pillow. "I didn't Google you," he says first. "And I'm probably always that weird, I hate texting."

There's a soft huff of a laugh, and Steve feels his heart shift a little in his chest. "That why you called me?"

"Mm—yeah," he sighs, stretching out.

Tony laughs again. "Did—did you just wake up?"

"Yeah," he yawns. "Sorry for, uh—I thought I'd be more awake than this. Sorry."

The laugh that comes this time is easier, warmer. "I don't mind. It's cute," he says.

Steve grins, biting his lip. "Yeah?" he asks.

Tony snorts. "Yeah, you smug fucker," he says. There's a beat, and then, "I set up my profile."

"Oh? Any interesting responses?" Steve asks, grinning again, rolling onto his back and stretching again, making a little sound.

"Rogers, what the hell are you doing? You sound pornographic," Tony says.

Steve laughs. "Just stretching. Nothing untoward. Scout's honor," he sighs.

Tony huffs again. "How am I meant to believe you? I bet you weren't even a Scout," he says.

Steve can tell he's teasing, and he can't help the little bubble of laughter in his chest. "I wasn't," he admits. "But I'm a very honest man, don't you worry."

There's a beep in his ear. Steve frowns and pulls the phone back, looking at—

 _Craigslist Boy is requesting FaceTime_.

He answers it, making sure the covers are pulled up to his chin. "Hello," he says, looking at the camera.

Tony's grinning, and he looks like he still hasn't slept, on the edge of madness. "Hi there," he says. "Figured this was the only way to prove yourself to me."

"What, that I'm not jerking off?" Steve asks, instinctively lowering his voice so that Bucky—or, worse, Sam—doesn't hear. He holds up his free hand. "There."

Tony nods, grinning again. "An honest man," he says.

"That's me." Steve puts that same arm behind his head, settling on his pillow.

"Fuck, you're pretty," Tony says.

Steve laughs, feeling himself go red. Over a call with a stranger, what the fuck. "I thought I didn't match up on camera."

"Well," he says, dragging the word out, "no, you don't, but this’ll do. For now."

Steve laughs again, trying to take this as what it is, a joke, just—banter. "That sounds ominous."

“Smart man,” Tony teases. He pauses again, looking over Steve. His gaze feels intense even over the phone. “So,” he says again. “I made my profile.”

“You mentioned,” Steve says, taking a slow breath. “Any bites?”

“A few,” Tony says. “I think I was right, though, they all think I’m you. Or you’re me. Whichever. Haven’t responded to anyone.”

“Shame,” Steve says, laughing. “Thought we were trying to get you laid.”  

He must not have been as quiet as he thought, because he hears a voice — Bucky’s, thankfully — go “What the _fuck_?” outside his door, and he laughs again, going red and rubbing his jaw.

“Who’s that?” Tony asks, and his smirk looks almost sinister in a really, really sexy way.

“Nothing,” Steve says. “No one. Just the guy whose arm you fixed.”

“Oh, James? I looked him up,” Tony says. “He’s pretty, isn’t he? Don’t know why you’re not hitting that.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Really? Nothing?” Tony asks, false disappointment oozing into his voice. “You’re an elementary school teacher, I thought you’d be easier to scandalize.”

“I answered a sketchy Craigslist ad,” Steve says dryly. “You might have to try harder than that.”

Tony laughs again, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he tells him, and it sounds more fond than Steve would have expected.

“Yeah, and you’re the one who made the ad,” Steve tells him. “I think there’s equal parts of ridiculous, here.”

Tony laughs again, rubbing his eyes. “Shit,” he sighs. “As much as I’m enjoying this… I haven’t actually slept. Think I should do that or Pepper’ll have my head.”

“Call me when you wake up, hot stuff,” Steve says, winking at him. “And get me that link.”

“Yes, sir,” Tony says just before he hangs up.

Which leaves Steve staring at his dark screen, half hard and more confused than anything else.

Again, he thinks—what the _fuck_?

***

“Who was that?” Bucky asks when Steve finally drags himself out of his room.

“Uh,” Steve says, looking at his phone. “Tony Stark, actually.”

Bucky snorts. “You’re shittin’ me,” he says.

Steve just looks at him, shaking his head. “No,” he says, laughing. “He, uh — and I think he was flirting with me.”

Bucky looks at him pointedly. “You weren’t wearing a shirt? Of course he was flirting, dumbass.”

Steve shakes his head, laughing again, just — confused, perpetually. “Right,” he says. “I, uh—right.”

Bucky laughs, tying his hair up into a quick messy bun. “Oh, I hope he can come over sometime,” he says. “You like him so much, this is gonna be _hilarious_.”

“Fuck off,” Steve says, throwing a pillow at him on his way to the kitchen.

***

He gets right back to work on his sketches, phone on loud next to him.

He doesn’t draw Tony, but it’s a close thing.

He’s just pretty, really, and Steve isn’t often this desperately, immediately attracted to someone, but there’s nothing to be done about it now.

He finally gets a call eighteen hours later (he’d be impressed by the amount of sleep, but then he remembers Tony talking about how he hasn’t slept in a week).

It isn’t a video call, thankfully. He’s got ink all over his hands and his face, and he’s sure his eyes are bloodshot.

“Hello?” he asks when he answers, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder.

“Hey there,” comes Tony’s voice, warm and already familiar.

He grins. “How’d you sleep, then?” he asks him.

“Mm… never better. Had _very_ nice dreams,” Tony tells him.

“Oh? Care to share?” Steve asks him, resting his chin on his hand.

“I would, yeah… think I’d like to give you a demonstration, though. You doing anything today?”

“Not a damn thing,” Steve lies, pushing his art supplies away. “How fast can you be here?”

“Ooh, eager, I like that,” Tony tells him, and then, “five minutes, actually.”

Steve laughs. Really, he should have expected this. “Did you start driving to my place before you called me?”

“What can I say, I’m a confident guy,” Tony says.

Steve considers it for all of five seconds before he says, “Yeah, okay. Five minutes. Let me know when you’re here.”

“You’re not gonna bring me up?” Tony almost sounds disappointed.

“Bucky and Sam are here, and trust me, you don’t want that,” Steve says quietly. “Guess you’ll have to demonstrate in your car.”

Tony lets out an exaggerated dreamy sigh. “Perfect man,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, holding his phone up to his ear while he rushes out of his room, getting the worst of the ink off of his face and hands. “This coming from the benevolent billionaire?”

“Fuck off,” Tony says, laughing again. “Alright, I’m here. Do you want me to come up, or…?”

“Nope! Be right down,” he tells him, shoving his shoes on and grabbing his keys. He hangs up then, yelling a quick _goodbye_ to Bucky and Sam on his way down.

There’s a black limo parked in front of his apartment complex, and Steve grins, standing in front of it until the back window rolls down.

“Hey there, stranger,” Tony says, pushing the door open for him and looking him over.

Steve considers behind polite, but only takes a second to climb in after him, straddling his thighs and slamming the door shut. “Oh, don’t call me that,” he teases, arms around his neck, “you know more about me than I do, I’d bet.”

Tony laughs, tilting his head back against the seat and grabbing his ass. “You think?”

“Mm,” Steve hums in response, and finally bends down, kissing him properly with a little sound. He goes dirty with it fast, licking into his mouth and sighing against him.

Behind him, he hears the divider go up. He’d be embarrassed if he weren’t so distracted by all this, the feeling and the smell and the — _sounds_ , jesus, Tony’s so much louder than he thought he’d be —

He grins into the kiss, murmuring, “This what you dreamed about?”

Tony tilts him back so he’s flat against the seat, murmuring, “Think you’re too tall for a fuck in a car,” kissing over his neck. “No, wasn’t dreaming about this specifically… guess I’ll have to show you later. Give a more hands-on demonstration,” he adds, as he grabs at his ass again, shoving his shirt up.

“And delete that profile,” Steve teases, getting a hand into his hair.

Tony smirks against his neck. “What profile?” he whispers, sucking a line of kisses up his neck, to just under his ear.

(They manage to get a warm-up round in before Happy — Tony’s driver, apparently — gets them to Tony’s place, where Tony shows him _exactly_ what he was thinking about.)

**Author's Note:**

> come find me @ nothalfasgood on twitter if you want to chat! :)


End file.
